


For All Love

by deedeeinfj



Category: Aubrey-Maturin Series - Patrick O'Brian
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-29 00:00:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deedeeinfj/pseuds/deedeeinfj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack gives the injured Stephen a hand</p>
            </blockquote>





	For All Love

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on Livejournal, 2004.

"Enough of this vile slop," Stephen growled.   
  
He raised a bandaged hand and pushed away the bowl. Bonden cast a wary glance at Killick, who stood frowning in the shadows, but Stephen paid them no mind. Above them the crew were making such a noise and pounding as to make one's head ache forever, and over all was Jack's voice, shouting at them to "be more quiet, for the love of God and the good doctor!" Bonden and Killick finally left him in peace, the latter muttering under his breath. Stephen almost reached for his book but stopped when he realized that he couldn't turn the pages.  
  
He must have fallen asleep then, for he found himself whole again and sitting with Diana. Her blue eyes seemed even wider than usual in the candlelight. She smiled and leaned forward. "Maturin," she began, but what she had to say he would never know. Someone was repeating his name much more loudly than was quite necessary.  
  
"Devil take you," he muttered, opening his eyes to see Jack's great, hulking form over him.   
  
"I thank you, Stephen, and well he may." Jack pulled up a chair with a great scraping sound. "I trust you enjoyed what old Killick threw together for you? Quite a time he had of it, what with that stubborn-- well, it doesn't signify. Should you like some music?"  
  
Stephen turned his head and spared a weary smile in light of Jack's energy. "I would like it of all things, were I able to play my own instrument. All else makes my head ache at the thought." Might men be said to wilt like heavy flowers? "But I see that you have brought along your violin, my dear."  
  
"No matter," said Jack. "What joy is there in playing alone?"   
  
The captain stood and left, paying no heed to Stephen's protests, and the doctor stared again at the ceiling. His hammock swayed lightly with the ship's movement, and he imagined himself a babe once again in his mother's arms. Again he found himself slipping away into welcome sleep, leaving behind the pain that managed to make itself known even through the blessed laudanum. Peace, however, was not to be his, it seemed. The door opened and in walked Jack, bumping the ends of Stephen's cello on each doorframe.  
  
"Have a care," Stephen protested as Jack placed his bow in his hand. "And what's this?"  
  
Jack knelt beside the hammock, slipped his arm under Stephen's neck, and held the cello over him. "Can you move the bow?"  
  
Stephen laughed bitterly. "I could if I wanted to wake your seamen and rouse them to mutiny. How shall I play without marking the notes, for all love?"  
  
"As to that," said Jack, "I will play them myself." He curled his fingers and pressed them to the strings. "Only tell me where to put my fingers."  
  
Stephen turned his head to see Jack's hopeful face and found himself staring into wide, blue eyes. Wide eyes and blue, leaning forward in candlelight. He blinked. Jack's solid arm suddenly felt more tangible beneath his neck. Without a word, he laid his fingers over Jack's and placed them on the strings. His friend's large fingers seemed much more suited to this instrument than the small, delicate violin.  
  
"Corelli," he murmured, turning his face up and raising his bow. "Adagio." Slowly, he slid the bow over the strings. He expected ghastly noise, but found instead that the intrument was already tuned - surely Jack's doing. The bow drew a low, clear note that seemed to warm the small room. He moved Jack's fingers under his own, surprised at how graceful they were in this element - rough, to be sure, but purposeful. His bow stopped suddenly when he realized that his fingers had moved to Jack's thick wrist, and that the captain had said nothing.  
  
His senses seemed both slowed and heightened by the laudanum, and he turned his head again to look at Jack. Up the muscled forearm he traced. The cello's weight rested fully on his chest now as Jack seemed to forget it. "Doctor?" he asked.  
  
Stephen slid the cello carefully aside and let it lean against the chair. His bow lay somewhere in the hammock, forgotten. "Shall I... shall I tell you where to put your fingers, Jack?"  
  
Perhaps Jack was lonely for his Sophie, weary of the abstinence forced on him by the sea. Whatever the reason for his quiet moan and hungry claiming of Stephen's mouth, the doctor didn't care. Stephen swept his friend's mouth with his tongue, tasting salt and grog. Evidently Jack didn't need to be told where to put his fingers, for his hand was moving slowly down to where Stephen ached - not the lingering ache of tortures past, but the wonderful ache of a want and need that would be satisfied.   
  
"Stephen, are you quite yourself?" said Jack. "Too much laudanum, perhaps, or..." His hand found what it sought and Stephen gasped. "Or have I taken too much grog?"  
  
"I am quite myself," Stephen breathed, holding his hand over Jack's, listening to the adagio in his fevered head. "Oh, not so handsomely, Jack. If they did not break my body before, you will certainly not break it now." He pushed more insistently into Jack's hand, finally spending himself and struggling for a clear breath.  
  
Jack fell into unusual silence, and Stephen turned to look at him. "This is no evil, my dear," he said softly. "You may lose your soul for drunkenness or killing, as heaven chooses, but not for this."   
  
"It isn't that," Jack replied, looking up. "It's that they almost killed you, God damn them."  
  
"Almost, indeed. But in some weeks' time I shall recover and forget it, and then I'll show you, sure, how very alive I am."


End file.
